The Hook
by Thaddottir
Summary: Her brow furrowed, as she tried to figure out why it felt like she had a hook in her heart, pulling her to this stranger. She felt connected, somehow, to this man she was certain she'd never laid eyes on before. Curse AU.


**AN: This is the first fic I've written for this fandom, so I was a bit nervous about this. Posted it on Tumblr a few days ago, and it seems pretty well received, so I thought I'd test the waters here. **

When she woke she felt drawn to the hospital. She dressed quickly and flew out of the apartment, not pausing to answer her puzzled room mate's shout, questioning the location of the fire. It took every ounce of self control she had not to break all the traffic laws on the short drive. Fortunately it was early, so finding a parking spot at the hospital wasn't an issue. She jumped out her car, not even pausing to lock it, and jogged through the parking structure to the entrance of the hospital. No one paid the sheriff any mind as she walked briskly through the halls. One of the perks of being a figure of authority in a small town.

She came to a stop when she arrived in the ICU. Some unknown force was pulling her toward the room at the end of the hall. She couldn't even question it, she simply obeyed. The door to the room was shut, but the blinds covering the window were open, and she could see the occupant of the room, laid on the bed and attached to various monitors and IVs. He seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place him. He had dark hair, a scruffy beard. He was strikingly handsome, even with the scar across his cheek. She found herself assuming he had blue eyes, the colour of the sea, but she wasn't sure why. She placed her hand of the glass, wondering who he was, and why she was drawn to him.

"Sheriff Swan, can I help you?" She jumped at the sudden appearance of Doctor Whale at her side. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

"Who is this man? I don't recognize him." She managed to tear her eyes away from the window while she addressed the doctor.

"John Doe. He was brought in last night. The mayor found him unconscious on the side of the road near the town line. He had no wallet, nothing identifying him. I talked to Deputy Nolan last night, there's been no missing person reports. Quite the mystery."

"What's wrong with him?" She asked.

"Aside from some bruises and a couple of broken ribs, nothing." Whale flipped open the chart he'd been holding. "But he's in a coma. We've done all the tests, but we can't find any reason for it."

"Can I go in? Take a look at his belongings, see if I can figure out who he is?" She turned her gaze back to the mystery man. The pull towards him felt impossibly stronger with the close proximity. She needed to be in the same room with him.

"Be my guest, Sheriff. Good luck." The doctor turned on his heel and walked down the hall. Emma paid him no mind as she moved to the door. She entered the room and closed the door behind her. She gasped at the inexplicable familiarity she felt as she moved closer to him. She didn't even try to resist the urge to touch him, but was started by the shock she felt when she laid her hand on his cheek. She tried to blame it on static electricity, but couldn't recall it being even remotely windy out. Her brow furrowed, as she tried to figure out why it felt like she had a hook in her heart, pulling her to this stranger. She felt connected, somehow, to this man she was certain she'd never laid eyes on before. She dropped her hand from his cheek and backed away from him, trying desperately to ignore the empty feeling that came with the distance.

She surveyed the room, and her eyes fell on a folded stack of clothes on a chair in the corner. Dark jeans with empty pockets, and a long sleeved black button down shirt. Black boots with socks tucked into them sat beside the chair. A long black woollen coat hung over the back of the chair. She ran her fingers over it, and was reminded of one of her own coats, one she favoured during the winter, and thought of as her "pirate" coat. She lifted the coat from the chair, and without thinking, pressed it to her nose. She was overwhelmed with the scent of rum and sea salt. She dropped the coat onto the chair and rushed out if the room. This was all too weird. She heard Doctor Whale calling after her as she stepped into the elevator, so she pressed the close door button to avoid another conversation with him. It was only as the elevator descended that she felt the warmth on her cheeks, and she was shocked to touch them and come away with tears on her fingertips.

"What the hell?" She whispered to herself. _Why was she crying?_

That night she dreamt of the sea, and a pirate with impossibly blue eyes and an easy smile that was just for her.

She avoided the hospital for days. She buried herself in paperwork, sending her deputy out on all the calls she could. She left the station only to sleep and eat, and even then, she had food delivered more often than not. Some nights she opted to just sleep on the cot in the cell, not interested in going home and facing Mary Margaret's inquiring stares and questions. David wasn't much better, but at least she could send him out of the station when she got tired of his concern.

She glanced at the clock. 1 am. She couldn't put it off any longer, she had to sleep. And she was going to have to do it at home, in her own bed. Her neck wasn't going to forgive another night on the cot. At least it was late enough that Mary Margaret would be asleep. The school teacher was rarely up past 10 pm. She stepped into the cool night air, and turned her coat collar up against the chill. The light breeze brought with it the scent of the sea from the harbour, and Emma clenched her fists, and again resisted the hook pulling her toward John Doe in room 207. She walked home quickly, before she could change her mind and sleep at the station again.

She opened the front door quietly, and locked it behind her. She went straight for the kitchen, hoping a nightcap or two would help her sleep quicker, and maybe even give her reprieve from the dreams that had haunted her every night for the last week.

"Emma?" She heaved a sigh, not even surprised at Mary Margaret's voice behind her. Of course the gods couldn't be kind enough to let her go to bed without delay. She turned around a took a long drink from her glass. She hadn't paid attention to the bottle she'd grabbed, but if course,_ of course_, it was rum. She considered pouring the remainder of her glass into the sink, but took another drink instead.

"Hey Mary Margaret. Did I wake you? I'm sorry, I was trying to be quiet." She drained her glass, and thought about refilling it. One look at Mary Margaret's face made the decision for her. She poured the rum and steeled herself for the conversation she knew was coming.

"Emma, is everything alright? You've been acting strange all week. You've barely talked to anyone, you've been withdrawn. The few times you've slept at home this week, I've heard you crying in the middle of the night." That surprised Emma, she didn't remember crying. Mary Margaret continued, "I'm sure Archie can make room in his schedule if you need it. Or you can talk to me." The concern in Mary Margaret's voice was too much for Emma to bare. She walked to the couch and sat on it with a loud sigh.

"You heard about the John Doe, right?" Emma asked as her friend joined her on the couch.

"Yes, David told me. It's so weird. Do you know anything about him?"

"I don't, but, I don't know. I feel like I should? There's something about him. Something familiar?" Emma sipped on her drink as Mary Margaret gave her a puzzled look. "I've been dreaming about him all week, and I don't know why."

"Is that why you've been crying?"

"I don't even remember crying. I don't understand any of this!" Emma rose from the couch and drained her glass again. She was restless. She couldn't just sit there while her friend looked at her like she might be losing her mind. "I dreamt of him the night he was found. I woke that morning and I felt drawn to the hospital. I found him there, and there was just something about him. I felt like I should know him, but I don't. Why don't I know him?" She wasn't surprised to find herself crying this time. Mary Margaret stood and took the glass Emma was still clutching in her hand.

"You need to get some rest, Emma. You've been overworking yourself. You'll figure out who he is, and get him back to his family. Everything will be fine, you can't force it." Mary Margaret's words held truth. Emma would return the stranger to his family. She'd never been as sure of anything as she was of that fact. She felt the pull at her heart again, stronger than ever. She'd stayed away too long.

"I have to go." She hurried out the door, ignoring the concerned calls that followed her.

She found herself outside his room, looking at him through the window again. She glanced down the hall, and not a soul was in sight. Unsurprising, given the late hour. She slipped into his room and let the door shut behind her. She was done fighting the pull toward him. She stopped beside his bed, and laid her hand over his.

"Who are you?" She asked. She leaned forward, and for reasons she didn't understand, pressed her lips lightly to his. For a moment nothing happened. Then suddenly, she felt a rush, a gust of wind, a flash of light. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck and pressed her closer to him as he responded to the kiss. She pulled back as memories filled her mind. She rested her forehead against his and smiled. "Killian." She whispered. His eyes were just as blue as she remembered.

"It about bloody time," he said, with that easy smile that was just for her.


End file.
